business to do——'
'My dear chap, I insist on bothering. The whole idea is absurd. I've put far too great a strain on your good nature already. This is preposterous. You must certainly join us in another drink. And in lunch. It's the very least I can do.'
Mr. Immelbern did not look happy. He gave the impression of a man torn between politeness and frantic necessity, frustrated by having to talk in riddles, and perhaps pardonably exasperated by the obtuseness of his companion.
'But really, Sir George——'
'That's enough,' said the Colonel, raising his hand. 'I refuse to listen to anything more. Mr. Templar is an old friend of mine, and my guarantee should be good enough for you. And as far as you are concerned, my dear chap,' he added, turning to Simon, 'if you are not already engaged for lunch, I won't hear any other excuse.'
Simon shrugged.
'It's very good of you. But if I'm in the way——'
'That,' said the Colonel pontifically, 'will do.' He consulted his watch, drummed his fingers thoughtfully on the table for a moment, and said: 'The very thing! We'll go right along to my rooms, and I'll have some lunch served there. Then Mr. Immelbern and I can do our business as well without being rushed about.'
'But Sir George!' said Immelbern imploringly. 'Won't you listen to reason ? Look here, can I speak to you alone for a minute? Mr. Templar will excuse us.'
He grabbed the spluttering Colonel by the arm and dragged him away almost by main force. They retreated to the other end of the lounge.
'We'll get him,' said the Colonel, gesticulating furiously.
'I know,' said Mr. Immelbern, beating his fist on the palm of his hand. 'That is, if you don't scare him off with that imitation of a colonel. That stuff's so old-fashioned it makes me want to cry. Have you found out who he is?'
'No. I don't even recognise his name.'
'Probably he's mistaken you for somebody else,' said Mr. Immelbern, appearing to sulk.
The Colonel turned away from him and marched back to the table, with Mr. Immelbern following him glumly.
'Well, that's settled, by Gad,' he said breezily. 'If you've finished your drink, my dear fellow, we'll get along at once.'
They went in a taxi to the Colonel's apartment, a small suite at the lower end of Clarges Street. Uppingdon burbled on with engaging geniality, but Mr. Immelbern kept his mouth tightly closed and wore the look of a man suffering from toothache.
'How about some caviar sandwiches and a bottle of wine ?' suggested the Colonel. 'I can fix those up myself. Or if you'd prefer something more substantial, I can easily get it sent in.'
'Caviar sandwiches will do for me,' murmured Simon accommodatingly.
There was plenty of caviar, and some excellent sherry to pass the time while the Colonel was preparing the sandwiches. The wine was impeccable, and the quantity apparently unlimited. Under its soothing influence even the morose Mr. Immelbern seemed to thaw slightly, although towards the end of the meal he kept looking at his watch and comparing it anxiously with the clock on the mantelpiece. At a quarter to two he caught his partner's eye in one of the rare lulls in the Colonel's meandering flow of reminiscence.
'Well, Sir George,' he said grimly, 'if you can spare the time now——'
'Of
